


Tired - Sequel to 'Tears'

by jscribbles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying, DeanCas - Freeform, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, casdean - Freeform, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jscribbles/pseuds/jscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: Tired<br/>Author: jscribbles<br/>Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst<br/>Warnings: Suggestion of serious violence and torture, swearing, unbeta'd<br/>Spoilers: S1-S6, 7.01/7.02<br/>Rating: M<br/>Summary: Sequel to 'Tears'. Must read Tears before this one or this'll be confusing. Dean comforts Castiel after he saves him from Crowley.<br/>A/N: Written for dustlines because she is great and fangirls over Dean/Cas stuff with me. Much love! Sorry if this doesn't suit the prompt? Hope you likely? Heh heh. *ducks*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tired - Sequel to 'Tears'

Dean couldn't blame Sam for taking off. He only nodded numbly when his younger brother spat something about needing air and trudged away, closing the door of the Impala with a resounding thud. He heard the screeching tires as the car drove out of the motel parking lot and down the street, leaving behind the stench of burning tires and a hollow feeling in Dean's chest. Dean ignored the feeling – it wasn't new.  
  
While for a very long time, the absence of Sam's immediate presence had left Dean with a horrible panic that his younger brother was going to kill himself, he knew that was over. Sam had recovered, for the most part. It had taken a lot of tears and support, but the brothers had more or less held each other together. Well, Dean had held Sam together - supported his episodes and talked him through some hard times, drove him to the hospital when he did actually try to end his life. Dean had held himself together by distracting himself with the upkeep and maintenance of Sam's mental well-being. If Sam was all right, then Dean had been able to convince himself he was all right, despite the horrible despair that Castiel's absence had brought him.  
  
But Castiel was back now. Dean had prayed every night, begged and hoped and willed the angel to come back to him, because Dean was broken – unfixable – without him. And what was hilarious about it was that he hadn't realized how much he needed him until he'd realized he could get him back. He'd thought that pain of his absence had been the worst when he was gone, but when he'd found him bleeding and hysterical on Crowley's torture table, it was hard to remember what pain was worse. Hell? No, Hell was nothing.  
  
Hell was right here on earth. It was his own reflection in the mirror, knowing he was barely holding himself together. It was watching Sam choke on his own vomit after he'd purposely overdosed. Hell was trying to keep Sam from bleeding to death while he waited for an ambulance. Hell was watching Castiel bleed and beg and scream for salvation. Hell was watching tears slip down the face of grime and blood, leaving tracks of Castiel's humanity on his skin. Hell was clear blue humanity looking up at him from a face covered in blood, begging, just wishing to be saved.  
  
Perhaps it had been selfish to save him. Perhaps it had been insensitive to the torment that his own brother had to go through. But regardless of it all, he hadn't been able to leave him there. Dean Winchester needed Castiel. He saved him because if he had left him there, maybe it was Dean that would be found dead in the hotel shower or cold on the motel room floor. He would take death and Hell over leaving Cas.  
  
Dean turned away from the empty parking spot in front of their motel room and faced Castiel, whose red-rimmed eyes, sporting dark smudges of exhaustion under them, peered at him, two blue whirls of emotion. Fear, shame, but mostly desperation. His eyes were wide, staring almost unblinking at Dean, as though they feared he might disappear if he looked away.  
  
“Here.” Dean said, pointing at the door just behind the former angel, moving towards him. Cas stumbled back and inhaled sharply, moving quickly out of Dean's way. When Dean froze and furrowed his eyebrows at him, Castiel shifted his eyes to the side, swallowing loudly as he realized how he reacted. There was a moment of silence, then Dean cleared his throat and said gruffly, “Hope you don't mind, but it'll just be the two of us. Sam got a separate room.”  
  
He didn't elaborate anymore. They both new Sam wanted to stay as far from Cas as he could. It was a relief almost. Dean loved his brother more than anything but Sam would be nothing but unhelpful and dark. As far as Sam was concerned, Castiel was Dean's problem. He'd saved him, his life was his responsibility.  
  
Dean let himself in and held the door open for Cas, who was still staring at him and had yet to say a word. Dean frowned at him and muttered, “Not to be an ass, Cas, but you're covered in blood. D'you mind coming inside before someone sees you and we all get sent to jail?”  
  
At the word 'blood', Castiel twitched, but he nodded and walked slowly inside, finally taking his eyes away from Dean and peering around the room. Dean shut the door behind him and inhaled slowly, taking a long hard look at a scratch marring the smooth wood.  _Get your shit together, Dean._  
  
He looked away and at Castiel, who'd somehow made his away across the room and pressed his back up against a wall by the bathroom, yet again staring at Dean with wide eyes.  
  
An awkward silence bore down upon them until Dean walked slowly towards Cas, palms forward. He grabbed a crappy wooden chair from the kitchenette and set it down by the bed. He peered at Castiel and gestured to the seat. “D'you wanna sit, Cas? I want to check your wounds for infections.”  
  
It took a second but Castiel pushed himself off the wall and approached Dean, sitting down on the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his stomach, fingers clenching the materials of his arms, his posture screaming  _hurt, scared_. Dean approached him knowing this, palms raised like he was approaching an injured animal. They locked eyes and didn't break their gaze even when Dean sat down and reached down to the ground, dragging his duffel of first aid towards them.  
  
Cas stared at his face, first at his eyes, then at his lips. He gazed at Dean's cheeks, then at his hair, his eyes shining and brimming with tears. Dean ignored his own despair and reached forward, slowly unbuttoning the blood stiffened dress shirt.  
  
“It'll only take a bit.” Dean said quietly, eyes darting to Castiel's face, “Then I'll let you go to shower and change into something clean. I'm sure I've got a spare set of clothes you can borrow until we buy you your own.”  
  
Castiel sniffed and finally broke his observation to look down at Dean's hands as they slowly worked the buttons out and opened the soiled cloth, baring his body. They were both surprised to see he had been completely healed.  
  
“Did you do this?” Dean asked, looking perplexed. “Did you heal, Cas? I thought... I thought he said you were-”  
  
Finally finding his voice, Castiel rasped, “No. He... he must have h-healed me.”  
  
The former angel's voice broke on the last words and he let Dean resume his task. Frowning, Dean continued on, insistent on making sure Cas was unharmed. Dean had successfully removed his coat, blazer, and was about to push Cas' shirt off his shoulders, when a broken whisper stilled his hands on Cas' clammy shoulders.  
  
“If this is a trick, please let it end.”  
  
Dean froze, looking up at Cas' down-turned gaze. “What?”  
  
Castiel inhaled shakily, his body beginning to tremble lightly under Dean's hands. Dean tried to meet his eye but Cas was staring hard down at his lap, suddenly refusing to look at Dean at all. He whispered harshly, “If Crowley put you up to this,  _stop_. Let me go.”  
  
Reeling, Dean sat back, snatching his hands back and staring at Castiel in horror. “Cas, why would I--- what? Why would you think Crowley put me up to this?”  
  
Cas moved suddenly, tugging his clothing shut, curling forward and digging a hand into his hair. “Everything is all wrong. Dean wants me dead.”  
  
Panicked, Dean shook his head furiously. “No! Cas--”  
  
Ignoring him, Castiel looked up at Dean, his eyes wide, insane. “Dean said it.  _I heard him._  He summoned Death to kill me.”  
  
Castiel's face crumpled and he started at Dean, eyes shining with tears, eyebrows furrowed, “Crowley, please,” He begged, thick tears slipping down the side of his face, “Please, let me go. Stop looking like  _them._ ”  
  
Unable to continue the gentle demeanour he'd tried to uphold around him, Dean surged forward, gripping Castiel by the shoulder, using his other hand to hold Castiel's arm, squeezing and shaking him slightly, “Cas! It's me! I'm not --”  
  
Gasping for breath, suddenly Castiel was in hysterics, sweat dripping down the side of his face, mingling with tears, his body trembling and fighting against Dean, trying to pull away.  
  
“I knew it was too good to be true. Dean coming to s-save me? Dean picking me up off that table, clothing me,  _forgiving me_? I knew it was a fake, but I entertained it, Crowley. I entertained it, but this is too much. Too far. Please. Please, let me go. Put me back on that table.”  
  
“I am not Crowley! God damn it!”  
  
Castiel ignored him, eyes blazing as he fixed him with another wide eyed stare, this one whirring with accusation and hatred, “Letting it go this far is cruelty I put past even you.”  
  
In an instant, Dean realized with pain like a blow to the stomach, that to Castiel, this was a trick being played on him by Crowley. This whole thing, rescue included, was a trick. Letting Sam and Dean find him, healing his wounds, letting them take him. Crowley knew Cas would leave that place thinking it was torture. He let reality torture Castiel. His torture didn't stop on the tabletop.  _Bastard._  
  
Overcome with a fierce surge of protectiveness, Dean released Cas and swept his fingers under his eyes, pushing away tears. He threaded his fingers through dirty, bloody hair and stroked the side of Castiel's face, moving in close. He stared at Cas, then whispered, “You don't think you deserve to be saved?”  
  
Surprised blue eyes shot up, meeting his gaze and holding it, alarm traceable on every line on his face.  
  
Then suddenly, Dean grinned. All teeth and crows feet, he laughed, shaking his head. A soft chuckle escaped him and he ran a hand gently down Castiel's face. Something about the angel's facial expression had filled Dean with a joy he hadn't felt in a while. Maybe it was that stupid blank stare that Cas had, the 'what are you talking about, puny human?' look that reminded Dean about everything he loved about Cas.  
  
Castiel stared at him, eyes watching his grin like he was receiving revelation. He watched his eyes observe Dean's face.. He saw him trace the laugh lines around his mouth and count the tiny crinkles around the corners of his eyes. Dean let Castiel reach up and gently touch his cheeks, running his fingertips so tenderly over his lips, his temples, the shell of his ears. Castiel inhaled deeply, his eyes tracing the features of his creation, taking in every freckle and birth mark, every hair and crease in Deans visage.  
  
Castiel's eyes slid shut and one tear tumbled down his cheek. Dean reached up and wiped it away. Castiel sniffled wetly and whispered, “I am so tired of crying.”  
  
Leaning forward, Dean pulled his angel into a hug, resting his chin on his shoulder, fingers dancing lightly down his back, “I asked you to stop the tears, Cas. You are so much cooler than tears.”  
  
Castiel, to both their shock, laughed softly into Dean's shoulder, sniffing again and then murmuring, “I'm so tired, Dean. I'm tired.”  
  
Dean clenched his jaw, suddenly fighting back tears of his own. He heard Sam's sobs from months ago,  _'I'm tired, Dean. I'm tired. Make it stop. Please, let it end. I don't want to be here anymore.'_ And his own thoughts, swirling through his mind, pounding against his skull,  _'Quit, just quit. Leave Sam. Leave everyone. Just run. Kill yourself.'_  He felt Cas hug back, trembling and hot under his hands. He remained silent for almost a minute before he replied brokenly, “Me too.”


End file.
